the wind brings the geese
on swift wings
the rain keeps them here
we are their south

I see them
six from the ocean to the mountains
eight from the mountains back to the sea
each winter they draw a circle
another year

in another life we would have 
danced our words on paper with their feathers
and some nights, still,
we rest our dreaming heads on their down
as if we were listening to their hearts
underneath the fluff

only to be woken by goose honks
calling us to fly in formation
tell your tales until
the sun will take you North again